


They Stacked the Odds

by Twinklefae



Series: Make My Demons Run [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cage Trauma, Enochian, Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester, Panic Attacks, Post-Cage, Post-Hell Sam Winchester, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sam Winchester Has Mental Health Issues, Seizures, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 08:14:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16322534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twinklefae/pseuds/Twinklefae
Summary: Dean was hoping it wouldn't come to this - but he and Sam have to leave Lisa's.  What are they going to do now?  How will Sam cope?Maybe a little human kindness will get them through.





	They Stacked the Odds

**Author's Note:**

> This is set before "The Road is Long"

They couldn’t stay.  Lisa offered, and Dean was desperate for it all to work out; to not lose his new family.  But Sam couldn’t cope with so many people in and out, and Ben was resentful of all the disruption and Lisa couldn’t hide how jealous she was of Sam.

It all came to a head late at night after Ben triggered Sam into a full-on meltdown with a violent video game.  Sam started to scream and quickly collapsed in a seizure. Lisa took Ben upstairs to deal with him. He was scared of Sam when he was seizing and was furious about having to turn off the game that he’d borrowed from a friend.  Dean stayed downstairs to wait out the seizure and the post-seizure nap.

“Mom, why is he even here?  He should be in a nuthouse or something!”

“Ben! Lower your voice!  He’s Dean’s brother and he saved the world.”

Dean could practically hear Ben’s eyes roll.  “I know.  But that doesn’t mean he’s safe to live with.  Or sane.  Or someone who should be in our house!”

“I know, Ben.  We’ll figure it out, okay?”

Dean sighed.  Sam smelled like piss because he’d wet himself again.  This, Sam being like this, Dean taking care of him, wasn’t fair to either of them, but especially not fair to Ben.

Ben and Lisa had quieted down upstairs when Sam’s eyes finally opened.  “D’n?” he asked.

“It’s me Sam.  Let’s go and get a shower, huh?”

If you’d told Dean 5 years ago that he’d be helping his adult brother bathe, he’d have punched you.  The trouble is that Sam is unpredictable.  He’ll be moving along fine one minute, and then next is screaming in Enochian and could do anything from have a seizure to eating the soap.  Dean had been stuck to Sam like glue since they got him back.

“Dean?” Sam said once he was dry and dressed.  “Maybe, go? Me?” Sam’s speech had been improving but he still didn’t have a huge vocabulary and couldn’t always find the words he did know.  “Not okay, to boy.”

“Ben?” Dean clarified.  “Ben will learn to cope.”

“No.  All people.  You…” Sam grunted in frustration and hit himself in the side of the head.  Dean grabbed his hand gently.  “All you.  Family.”

“Sammy, we’re all a family too.”

Sam shook his head.  He squinted. He was obviously concentrating very hard.  “No family. Conisbra Nidali. Broken. No.”

Dean moved closer to Sam on the bed and listened to the rapid in and out of Sam’s panicked breathing.  “No,” Sam said again, “Conisbra Nidali. Broken. No family. Dean, Lisa, Ben.  Family. BabalonSam.”

Dean was floored. Sam frequently spoke in Enochian, but always to himself.  This was the first time that he had spoken it to Dean.

“Sam, come on now, it’s late. Let’s get you into bed, huh?”

Sam was staring at the upper left corner of his own bedroom, so Dean repeated himself, while gently putting a hand on Sam’s arm.

“Okay Dean,” and just like that Sam lay down and let Dean tuck him the same way he had when they were children.

Downstairs Lisa sat at the kitchen table with a mug of hot cocoa. “Dean…” she said when he came down.

He sighed.  Despite what he’d said to Sam in his room, he figured this conversation had been coming.  It broke his heart though.  In private he thought he must be part sheepdog. Nothing made him happier than having all the people he loved in one place, where he could watch over them.

“I know Lis,” Dean started.

“I don’t think you do,” Lisa snapped, cutting him off.  “You and Sam are so wrapped up in each other that I don’t think you can understand.  He needs help Dean.  He’s miserable. He should be in a hospital.  I understand that he’s your brother, and you’ve said that you basically raised him, so I get that you’re used to being the only one to be there for him. But you aren’t going to be enough this time, I don’t think.”

“Lis, I couldn’t do that to him. He wouldn’t understand.  He’d think I was abandoning him. He’s already asking me to let him leave.  I already let him commit suicide once,” Dean shut his eyes against the tears that were starting as he remembered that day in Stull Cemetery, “I can’t do it again.  I can’t.”

Lisa sighed.  “I figured you’d say that.  Dean, I hate this, but you guys can’t stay here.  It’s having a terrible effect on Ben, and it’s my responsibility to look out for him.  And I’d love to say that if it weren’t for him you could stay, but Dean – I thought we had a relationship.  I’m not okay with playing second fiddle in my own house.”

Dean scrubbed his hand down his face.  “When do you want us out?”

She made a face and took the mug of cocoa to the sink to dump out.  “I’m not a monster Dean.  Take a week or two and figure something out.  Just – I mean, you sleep in Sam’s room most nights anyway.  You should probably keep that up.”

“Right,” said Dean as he watched Lisa – and with her the apple pie life Sam had wanted Dean to have – walk out of the room.

Upstairs, Dean crawled into the Queen-sized bed beside Sam.  Ever since Sam had come back he’d curled up as small as he could while he slept.  It meant that a bed that should have been a tight fit was almost roomy for Dean.   He looked over at the tight ball of his brother.  “Sammy, what are we going to do?”

 

* * *

 

 

In the morning Sam was himself again, in as much as he ever was.  Dean woke when he heard Ben and went down to start breakfast. Once he had Ben fed, he ran back upstairs to find Sam awake, petting the blankets.

“Heya Sammy, let’s get dressed, yah?”

Sam nodded, but didn’t move. “Come on Sam, time to get out of bed ya lazy ass.”

“Yah Dean,” sad Sam.  “We …go?”

“Yup, we’re gonna drive Ben to school.”

“In the shiny.”

“In the Impala.”

“Right.  Go?”

“To drive Ben.”

“No. I hear.  Lisa.  We go?”

“Oh God Sammy.  No, not now.  We’ll make a plan later.  Not now okay?”

“K, Dean.”

 

Once Ben was at school, Dean had to start thinking.  What _was_ he going to do with Sam? Where could they go?

Really, there was only one place.  He called Bobby.

“Hey Bobby.”

“Hey Son, how’s that boy doing?”

“Not much better.  We’re in a bit of a pickle.”

“You ain’t huntin’ are you?”

“No!  God, no!  No, things aren’t working out so well here with Lisa.”

“I’m sorry to hear that Dean.  Not surprised though, that’s a big change for a woman who didn’t know what was out there til a few years ago.”

“Yeah.  So, the problem is, that I don’t… I mean… I thought that you might…well, where can we go?”

“Well you’re coming here, ain’t ya?”

Dean closed his eyes in relief and croaked out “Thanks Bobby.”

“Dean, d’ja ever hear that quote?  The one that says that Home is where, when you have to go there, they have to let you in?  Well, you know that you boys always have a home here with me when you need one.”

“Thank Bobby.  I think it will take us a few days to pack up here, and then another couple to make the drive, since Sam likes the Impala, but I don’t know how he’ll handle a full day of driving.”

“I’ll be here when you get here.  Got a couple of cars booked when you get here too.  Sounds like you could do with some time under a hood to relax.”

“I wouldn’t say no Bobby.  See you soon.”

Once Dean had hung up he felt like he could breath again.  There was a plan.  A temporary plan likely – he couldn’t see them living with Bobby forever – but a plan that would get them through.

 

* * *

 

It took three days to pack up what they owned and get ready to leave.  It had been hard to say goodbye to Ben, but the boy was so happy that Sam was leaving he hardly seem to realize that Dean was going with him.

They left mid morning, and stopped for lunch, which was as big a success as Dean could have hoped for.  Sam liked the car and enjoyed eating soup at the diner Dean found.

When they stopped at supper time though, things were rougher.  First, Sam had been asleep in the car and was woken when Dean pulled up to the Motel.  Dean had to leave him in the car to check in and Sam was frantic before he got back.

“Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean,” he repeated, grabbing Dean’s arm, and trying to pull him closer.

“Sorry, Sam, I had to sign us in.  I won’t leave you again, it’s all right.”

No matter how many times he apologized and explained, Sam continued to repeat his name.  Once they got into the room, Dean sat with Sam on the bed, and, for lack of a better idea, cuddled him until he was able to settle. 

By this time, it was after six and Dean knew that Sam had to be hungry.  Living with Ben, who was in school, meant that meals had been on a regular schedule, and Ben had evening activities most nights, so they ate together at five.

“Let’s go and get some dinner, okay Sam?”

“Sam?” Sam repeated.  Dean tried not to groan.  Sam wasn’t exactly with it. 

“C’mon Sam, let’s go.”

“Go.  Slow.  Go.”

“Sure,” said Dean, helping his brother into his coat.

Once they were back in the Impala, Sam turned on the radio and turned the music all the way up.   Dean flinched and turned it back to a reasonable level.  “Sam!” he yelled, frustrated.

Sam’s eyes welled with tears and he looked down, hands rubbing frantically at the fabric of his pants.  Dean took a deep breath but didn’t apologize.  He drove silently to the diner down the road.

“Okay Sammy?”

Sam whimpered but didn’t answer.  He was rubbing the edge of his shirt between his fingers.  Dean walked around his Baby and helped Sam out and into the diner, praying to whoever was left to listen that Sam wouldn’t have a meltdown in the restaurant.

It was the kind of diner they’d eaten in in every one of the lower 48 states.  Dean led Sam over to a booth at the front of the diner, giving them a quicker exit if Sam lost it.  They had privacy on three sides from the wall between their booth and the next one over plus the two high backed benches.

The waitress was over in about two seconds flat, which made Dean wonder if the manager from the motel had been gossiping about them already.  He knew that other people would have seen and heard Sam’s upset from earlier, but it seemed so unfair that he had to deal with that on top of everything else.

“Everything all right there, sugar?” asked the waitress, who wasn’t a day less than 50. 

“Sugar, sugar, sugar, sweet, sugar, honey, CNILA,” Sam’s voice trailed off as he repeated the Enochian word over and over.

Dean braced himself against the pity he saw on the waitress’s face.  “We’re fine,” he answered, putting as much _mind your own business_ as he could into his tone, “Two waters, and a few more minutes, please?”

“Yeah, of course honey.  Whatever you like.”

Sam, who was still muttering in Enochian under his breath began to rock back and forth.  Dean didn’t mind that, though he knew that everyone thought that Sam was Autistic.  Or, the term a lot of older people used, especially in small towns, _retarded_. That bought them understanding, but sometimes made Dean want to scream that they didn’t understand.  His little brother was a genius, who had gotten a full ride to Stanford despite going to 20 different high schools. 

It just seemed so damn unfair that Sam had saved all their judgmental asses, and all he got in return were pitying looks, whispers, and every woman over the age of 20 calling him pet names like honey.

Today though, he let Sam rock in peace.  Rocking meant he wasn’t screaming.  Muttering meant that fewer people noticed them or could comment on what they were doing.  On what Sam was doing.  _Please_ , Dean prayed to the God who had abandoned them all, _please let us get through this_. 

When the waitress _(Sheila_ , read the nametag on her polyester uniform shirt) brought their waters, Dean ordered himself a Cheeseburger and fries.

“And for this fella?” she asked.  Dean ground his teeth and tried not to shoot back that she should ask him.  Because she was right, he couldn’t answer.  Not today, anyway.

“What kind of soup do you have?”

She looked over her shoulder at the specials board.  “Just the Tomato left,” she said, cracking her gum. 

Sam jumped in his seat.  “D’n!” he yelled, attracting the eyes of every person in the diner.

“S’okay Sammy, just her gum.  Nothing bad.  Just gum.”

“Gum, gum, gum,” Sam repeated.  His hands roved over the legs of his jeans, and his canvas jacket.  Dean didn’t know what he was looking for, or if he just liked the feeling.

“Does he want a piece?” asked Sheila, looking a little startled, and a little guilty that she’d upset him.

“No, just a bowl of soup, and a bunch of crackers?”

“Sure thing, anything else?”

“Nah, that’ll be great.”  Dean was pretty sure that at this point it would be a miracle if they got through this meal, but since there was no where else to go with anything Sam would eat, he felt like they had to try.

Sam continued to rub his hands restlessly on his clothes, on the table, on the bench, but since he’d stopped repeating random words Dean figured he’d count his blessings.  Looking out across the grubby red benches, Dean saw a woman sitting with her daughter.  Dean wasn’t great at guessing kids ages, but she was younger than Ben, and old enough to read the menu, so he thought around 6 or 7.

“Annabelle,” her mother said in that voice all parents have, the one that says that they are so fed up they don’t even know what to say anymore.  “It’s a stuffed bear.  And you’ve got so many stuffed animals.  New ones, nicer ones.  Why are we dragging that one around?”

“I told you Mommy, he wants to be here.  He has to meet someone.”

Annabelle’s mother put her head in her hands.  Dean bit back a smile.  He’d done that, with Sam when he was younger and then more recently with Ben.  Turning back to Sam, he couldn’t help but send a silent thought over that Annabelle’s Mother should let her do cute and mildly annoying things while she still could. 

“You hangin’ in there Sam?” he asked, not really expecting an answer.

Sam’s hands picked up speed again, rubbing back and forth along his jeans, grabbing a pinch here and there to roll between his fingers.  Dean had to clasp his own hands together to keep from trying to comfort Sam.  He knew that touching Sam right now would likely bring on a panic attack, and while he wasn’t sure they’d make it back to the motel without Sam losing it a little, he’d rather wait until after he got some grub.

The food didn’t take too long.  Dean mixed some broken crackers in with Sam’s soup, which helped to cool it off, and helped Sam get more of it in his mouth. He’d taken no more then two bites when Sam began to shriek. 

“CANILU, Dean, CANILU,” and pushed the bowl of tomato soup across the table, splattering it everywhere.  The waitress ran over.

“Sir, he can’t behave that way in here, we have to let them in, but we don’t have to let ‘em stay if they can’t act right.”

Sam, screaming even more loudly now that the soup was everywhere, had crawled under the table.  He stopped screaming shortly after, and Dean counted his blessings while he did his best to deal with the waitress, her husband who was apparently the cook, and the mess. 

Dean had once been told he could charm the birds out of the trees, but he had to tell the diner duo that Sam was a disabled vet before they would back off.  Thankfully, even in America’s heartland where attitudes towards the disabled were anything but progressive, vets still got a pass.  He didn’t even feel guilty.  Sam had served, it was just that the supernatural war wasn’t on TV and there weren’t any medals for surviving.

Once the waitress had returned with a wet cloth, Dean got to wiping up as the diner crowd settled back to their own meals.  That was when he realized that someone was talking to Sam.

Crouching down he looked under the table.  There was Sam, knees drawn up to his chest, tear-streaked face, but in his hands, he had something new.

“Winnie Bear wanted to go home with him,” said Annabelle, smiling at Dean. 

“Winnie Bear?” Dean asked. 

“Yeah, I think it’s supposed to look like Winnie the Pooh if he was a baby.  So, I just called him Winnie Bear.”

Dean nodded.  “What do you think Sam?”

Sam’s eyes were open wide with wonder.  “Winnie Bear,” he repeated. 

“Annabelle?” the girl’s mother stuck her head under.  Dean hadn’t realized til just then that the booth didn’t go to the floor. “What are you doing… don’t bother the men, honey,”

“It’s okay Mom,” she said, with the supreme confidence of a kid doing exactly as they please.  “I told you Winnie Bear needed to meet someone, and here he is.”

“Oh,” said the mom.  “That’s nice dear.” But she didn’t sound like it was nice at all.

“If you don’t mind ma’am, Winnie Bear seems awfully helpful to my brother, he has bad spells since he came back.”

The mother seemed shocked.  Then she looked at Sam and watched as he rubbed his hands gently over Winnie Bear, back and forth and up and down…

“If you are okay with it – Winnie Bear isn’t a new toy, and he might prefer something less… childish?” she winced on the last word.

Dean had to give her credit for trying, but, “I’m all for anything that helps.  We’ve had a real hard go of it, and if your little girl is inclined to be so kind, we’re not in a position to say no.”

“Does all those words mean yes?” asked Annabelle.

Dean and Annabelle looked up at her mother.  She smiled, “Yes, then we will give away an old toy.  But come up and finish your fries Annabelle.  We’ve got to get out to Walmart before it closes.”

“Bye Sam, Bye Dean,” she said.  Then she reached over and kissed Sam on the cheek before climbing back on to her side of the bench.

Dean wasn’t sure what surprised him more, the fact that Annabelle had calmed Sam down with a stuffed toy, or that he’d let her kiss him.

When he stood up, he realized that their waitress had added take out containers. 

“Sorry for your troubles son, don’t mind me.  But you might have better luck back at the motel.”

“Yeah,” said Dean, quickly helping her to pack up.  When he grabbed Sam to help him out from underneath the table, his brother came willingly, muscles relaxed and almost smiling. 

And when they got back in the impala to drive over to the motel, Winnie Bear was in his hands, and he had a bit of the fur running between his fingers.  Almost like that was what he’d been looking for earlier. 

And maybe it was, Dean thought later, when Sam was happily tucked into bed with Winnie Bear.  Maybe it was an answer to a prayer.  Maybe it was just a coincidence, but Dean liked to think that the world knew it owed Sam.  If all that it could muster in thanks was a used stuffed animal, well then, they would take it. 

Anything that helped was a blessing.

**Author's Note:**

> Enochian Translation:
> 
> Canisbra Nadali - Can't find the words  
> BABLONSAM - Sam is an abomination  
> CNILA and CANILU - Blood
> 
> This is the last work in the series I have finished, and it still took me 6 months to get them all up. I do intend to keep writing for this 'verse, but it has to happen in between a lot of other things, like work and kids and a few other hobbies.


End file.
